


The Boss 6: Storms

by grey853



Series: The Boss [6]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: Depression, Heavy Angst, M/M, Male Slash, S&M fantasies, explicit sex and language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-02
Updated: 2013-07-02
Packaged: 2017-12-16 21:32:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/866842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grey853/pseuds/grey853
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Walter Skinner struggles to fathom the depression and disturbing sexual needs that threaten to overwhelm and eventually destroy both his lover and their relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Boss 6: Storms

**Author's Note:**

> "The Boss" series starts right after "Zero Sum". "Storms" is the 6th story and occurs just before "Demons". It also comes before the story called, "Lost, but Found". 
> 
> The poem used in this story is Robert Frost's "Desert Places." Second, this deals with the very serious issue of SM sexual fantasy versus real abuse. It's not trying to make a judgment on those who select alternative life styles, heaven forbid. Bite your tongue, hon. What it does do, is deal with potential self-destructive acts and desires and how they affect everyone involved. Included for free is a picture of dealing with a loved one in the throes of chronic depression. Smiles all around? Sorry, not this time.

12 Jan 1998 M/SK NC-17+ 

Boss 6: Storms by Grey 

Warning: If love between two men offends you, leave now. This story contains explicit descriptions of both loving and what, some might consider, abusive acts. Some people might complain that this series is uneven, a little fluff here and grinding angst there. No joke. I write as I witness. Go away or go forth. It's all about choice. 

Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. Free agent sounds good to me. 

Archive: MKRA/MSSS OK 

Rating: NC-17+ This is the roughest piece so far. 

Summary: "The Boss" series starts right after "Zero Sum". "Storms" is the 6th story and occurs just before "Demons". It also comes before the story called, "Lost, but Found". Walter Skinner struggles to fathom the depression and disturbing sexual needs that threaten to overwhelm and eventually destroy both his lover and their relationship. 

Notes: First, the poem used in this story is Robert Frost's "Desert Places." Second, this deals with the very serious issue of SM sexual fantasy versus real abuse. It's not trying to make a judgment on those who select alternative life styles, heaven forbid. Bite your tongue, hon. What it does do, is deal with potential self-destructive acts and desires and how they affect everyone involved. Included for free is a picture of dealing with a loved one in the throes of chronic depression. Smiles all around? Sorry, not this time. 

* * *

**The Boss 6: Storms**  
by Grey  
[Grey853@aol.com](mailto:Grey853@aol.com?subject=Storms)

* * *

"I think we should talk about this, Mulder." 

"What's to say?" 

"Well, why not start by explaining what happened last night and the three nights before that?" 

"Nothing to explain. You were there." 

"Yeah, I was, but you weren't, not really. Frankly, Mulder, you've been distant lately. It's like you're shutting me out or shutting yourself down. What's going on with you?" 

Mulder shifted uneasily at the kitchen table of Skinner's private getaway apartment, pretending to busy himself with a case file. 

"Mulder, I asked you a question. Don't sit there and ignore me like you can't hear." 

With a defensive tone, he snapped, "What are you complaining about? You got off just fine, so what's the problem?" 

"But you didn't" 

"Don't worry about it. I took care of it later." 

Hurt became a quiet weight, a weight like thunder against arid desert stone waiting for rain. 

"Mulder, why are you being such an ass?" 

"Ass? I thought that's what you liked about me." 

Keeping his voice controlled, Skinner said, "Mulder, would you please explain to me why you're pushing so fucking hard here?" 

"I hate to break it to you, Walter, but you're seeing the real me. If you don't like it, I can leave." 

"Is that what you want?" 

"It doesn't matter what I want. You'll eventually leave me anyway. I'm used to it." 

Realization transmuted to lightning framed in a midnight sky. 

"Oh, I get it. By being an obnoxious prick, you can make damn sure that I'll have a good enough reason to leave you, right?" 

Silence confirmed suspicion. Walter continued. "It's not going to work. We're going to talk this through, Mulder. I love you. You piss me off royally when you get like this, but you're not getting rid of me that easily." 

"Maybe I should call Sharon and ask for tips." 

"Fuck you, Mulder, and try again. I suggest you come up with a different plan. How about telling me the real problem." 

Walter could see the slight shudder pass through his young lover who still refused to meet his gaze. Finally, Mulder spoke softly, "Jesus, Walter, I'm sorry. That was low even for my sorry ass. My mouth runs amok sometimes, what can I say? I'm just tired. It's been a pretty tough week." 

"Has Scully heard anymore about her latest scan?" 

Rubbing his face as though he could remove the swirling terror so easily, he shook his head. "They put her through all these tests and scans and then all she can do is wait. It's making me crazy. It's just so fucking hard, you know." 

"She's your partner. I know what that's like. She's part of you." 

"Yeah, but even so, I shouldn't take it out on you." 

Skinner sat down beside him, taking his free hand. He raised and turned up the palm, kissing it lightly and then caressing it firmly between his own before he spoke. "I know you're sorry. You say it and you mean it, but then you turn right around and do it again. I need to know why." 

"Why I keep acting like a prick? Hell, Walter, it's genetic. I come from a long line of pricks. Didn't you know?" 

"I'm not kidding here, Mulder. Why is it so hard for you to let yourself enjoy anything. You've always been a pretty morose bastard, but lately, I don't know, it's different." 

"It's not different, Walter. You're just seeing all of it for the first time." 

"You're not eating. You don't get through the night without at least one screaming fit, sometimes two. How do you even function on so little sleep?" 

"You get used to it. Believe me, Walter, none of this is new." 

"Is it depression, insecurity, what?" 

He jerked his hand away, stood, and started pacing. "Don't try to analyze me. Scully does that, too. I hate it. It's so goddamn condescending." 

Taking a calming breath, Skinner waited. 

"You say you fucking love me, but what the hell does that mean? The phrase is lost on me." 

"It's never lost on you, Mulder. You just don't think you deserve it." 

"There you go again, fucking Sigmund Walter Freud. You don't know shit about what I really think, what I feel." 

"Then tell me." 

His composed voice threw gas to flame. Mulder's distress and agitation scorched the room. He paced frantically trying to make the screams in his head into words. The phrases hissed with anxious energy. "I think that this whole situation is a disaster waiting to happen. There's no way we're ever going to work." 

"Why do you say that?" 

"I mean look at us right now. You're all fucking calm like none of this is a big deal. Me, well, I'm a mess. All I think about anymore is being with you or losing you. I can't focus on work because I'm always drifting off into some sexual fantasy that, as you pointed out so concisely the other night, would make a marine blush. I'm literally licking cock and sticking my tongue in your ass and you're getting all proper on me about details. Fuck proper." 

"Settle down, Mulder." 

"Don't tell me to settle down. Don't you think if I could control this, I would? Do you think I want to be this totally fucked up? Do you have any idea how hard it is to not fly off into a million pieces sometimes? Or even worse, collapse into a well so deep that the vacuum of space looks small? Like in that poem by Frost when he says 'they cannot scare me with their empty places between stars--on stars where no human race is. I have it in me so much nearer home to scare myself with my own desert places.' I feel like that sometimes. Hell, it's how I feel most of the time." 

"Is that how you feel right now?" 

In a fragile, more tremulous voice, he managed, "Walter, I'm scared shitless that you'll leave me and scared shitless that you won't. One minute I'm overwhelmed by the fierce reality of your love and in a heartbeat, I'm a vacant shell, totally numb, walking around passing for real. I seriously don't have a clue about how to deal with any of this confusion. It's a real mindfucker and I'm the whore." 

"Mulder, I can understand why leaving would scare you, but explain to me again why my staying frightens you to the point that you're willing to actually push me away." 

"You won't understand." 

"Try me." 

Finally reaching a state of functional calm, at least on a relative Mulder scale, he sat down on the edge of the bed. He still didn't look at Walter when he spoke. Instead he stared at an internal screening room already flooded with fearful images. 

"I tried to tell you before about how I sometimes need to do certain things." 

Skinner's stomach tightened at the uncomfortable reminder. "You asked me to hurt you, Mulder. More than that, you wanted me to degrade and punish you. You wanted it for real, no role-playing or sexual play, but for real pain. I can't do that." 

"That's what you said. I remember thinking at the time that maybe I should just keep quiet. No fuss. Just accept it. I mean, I'm not so totally fucked that I can't see how good you are for me. I'm amazed that you're in my life at all. I mean, I've never understood what you get out it unless you get off on grinding aggravation. But, Walter, this is a part of me, too, of who I am. Like it or not, it's part of the package. If we're going to be together, then you have to know and accept it." 

"Mulder, please. How do you expect me to do those things to you? Hell, I can't even repeat some of the things you asked me to do, without wanting to cry." 

"Cry?" 

"You begged me bite you, to leave wounds rather than make love to you. You wanted me to drive needles through your nipples and jerk your dick until it oozed blood. To make red, raw meat in my hand. Your words, Mulder, not mine. And that makes me want to cry." 

Obsessive need outbid humiliation as Mulder worked desperately to explain. "I never said I wanted you to do that all the time, just when I need it, just when things get too hard to handle." 

"How am I supposed to be able to hurt you, to let you damage yourself like that? Games are one thing, abuse another." 

"See, you wouldn't listen the other night either. You just did the Skinner thing and dismissed it. Worse than that, I saw your eyes when I finished. I disgusted you." 

He shook his head in vehement denial. "Never, Mulder. What you saw was concern and fear." 

"That's even worse. I tell you my deepest need and you're afraid of me." 

"Not afraid of you, for you." 

"Come on, Walter. It's not like I asked you to shoot me in the head or anything permanent. I just needed some temporary relief. Not all of us are lucky enough to always manage with your, if you'll pardon the expression, straight fuck." 

"Mulder, listen to me. The man I love tells me that I have to scratch, bite, or cut him until he bleeds to get him to come, well, that scares me. Then he tells me to strangle him unconscious, and that's more than I can deal with. He wants me to whip his ass until he's striped and scarred, to rape him with a dildo the size of my fist so that he can get off. No, Mulder, I'm sorry, but none of that is going to happen, at least not with me." 

Rusty and heavy with shame, Mulder leaned back to lie on the bed. He raised his arm to cover swollen eyes. Skinner recognized his lover's arousal and shook his head. Mulder hadn't been hard in over a week. Now, after a litany of sadistic acts, he stood rock hard, straining against his zipper. 

"Jesus, Mulder, how did you come to such a dark place?" 

He didn't answer the question. Instead Mulder tried to continue, his voice shaky. "At first I thought I could handle your refusal. I mean, being with you has been incredible. I've never had anything like it in my life. Still, there's something missing." 

"What?" 

"Pain. Not that I like pain all the time. I don't. But when things get really bad, like when I mess up or now when I'm so truly and totally fucked and confused, I need it. It's like if I can focus on the pain outside of myself, the torture inside is easier." 

"It doesn't make any sense to me. I can't understand." 

"I know, but you won't even try. You won't even talk about it." 

Still at the table, Skinner leaned forward in his chair. "Okay, I promise to talk about this need you have for pain later, but first I want to ask you something else." 

"Promise?" 

"Promise. Now, tell me why my loving you is so damn scary that you're willing to sabotage our relationship rather than work on it?" 

"That's fair enough, I guess." 

Hesitation flavored the words. Skinner prompted, "Come on, Mulder. Why is my love for you so terrifying?" 

"Imagine that everyone you ever loved either disappeared, rejected, or lied to you. In my life up to now, Scully is the only one who hasn't done that to me." 

"Come on, Mulder. How can that be true? What about your mom?" 

"I'm talking everyone, Walter. Now even Scully's leaving me and there's not a damn thing I can do about it. Every day she gets a little more pale, a little thinner. Those fucking nosebleeds are driving me nuts. Now, every time it happens, I puke." He snorted to himself. 

"What?" 

"Scully gets all concerned when I'm throwing up. What a fucking joke. She's dying and she's worried because I can't even keep down coffee." 

"This is about her cancer?" 

"She dying and I'm responsible." 

"No, you're not." 

"You say that. Scully says it. But I know the truth. She's leaving me because of me. Same old story, except that she'll be dead instead of just glad to have me out of her life." 

"Mulder, she cares about you. She doesn't blame you for what's happened." 

"That's her mistake. Then you come along. Now I'm afraid all over again. I let myself love you and, bam, you could end up hating me or dying on me, too. Because of me, you made the deal with Cancer man. Because of me, you're on their shit list as a target. They've already shot you and had you framed. What's next?" 

After a long pause, Mulder turned on his side and dared to look over to see Skinner's reaction. When their eyes met, Walter spoke quietly, but with an edge, "Hell, Mulder, must be nice to have so much power, to be so important in the world." 

"What's that supposed to mean?" 

"I mean that you take on all this blame when its not yours to claim. In my mind that's like saying that you have all the power to control what other people do or what happens to them. You're promoting the idea that Scully can't make her own decisions to stay in the X-Files. From your vantage point I'm just this asshole who doesn't decide a thing on my own. Hell no. In your dark, egocentric universe, Mulder controls it all." 

"You don't understand." 

"I do understand. You blame yourself for every bad thing that happens. I get it. What you don't get, is you do not have the will to make Scully do anything unless she wants to. Hell, even you should realize that. Plus, I make my own choices. Give up, Mulder. Don't be greedy. Only take the blame you're entitled to, not the whole fucking shitload." 

"But Scully was kidnapped because of her work with me." 

"Stop it, Mulder. We could do this dance all night and go nowhere but a circle. Believe me, I'll tell you when you've fucked up, but none of this is your fault. Scully has cancer and I'm a damn fool who makes bad deals. Let it go." 

"I have trouble doing that." 

"No shit." 

Mulder turned over and away, his legs drawn up and his back to Walter. He allowed the raggedy blanket of fatigue to bridle his mind and muzzle his thoughts. Behind him he heard the sound of undressing, belt buckle clinking, zipper undone, shoes on the floor. The mattress sagged as his lover joined him at the edge of the bed. A hand gently touched his shoulder. 

"I'm really tired, Walter. I don't want to talk about this anymore tonight." 

"I know you're tired, Babe. I'm used to your dark clouds. I'll survive the storm and so will you." 

"Don't bother being nice. I've been miserable to be around lately. I know that. I'm sorry that it can't be like it was when we first started. It's just I've never been good with maintenance." 

"Yeah, I know. I've seen the repair bills when I sign your insurance claims." 

Walter's hands rubbed slowly, massaging tight shoulder blades through cotton. He whispered, "Try to relax. I just want to be here with you." 

Heat from a his lover's touch broke his control. Small, convulsive breaths choked with the growing wetness of uncontrolled tears. Pushing his face into the pillow, he tried to muffle his shame, to smother away the hunger. His gut twisted with a greedy need to be fed. 

"Walter, please touch me." 

"I am touching you, Mulder." 

"You know what I mean." 

"You're exhausted, Mulder. All I want is to do is stroke and hold you until you drift into cozy sleep. I want to wrap you safe in my arms and make you truly know you're safe even deep in that stubborn unconscious of yours. I want you well and whole." 

"Damn, Walter. You want a lot." 

"Maybe, but look what I've got. You fill my life, Mulder." A gentle kiss pecked his cheek. 

Stretching out full length behind the man in his arms, Walter settled in, a solid support. He licked and suckled the tight neck, then whispered, "You said before that the meaning of love was lost on you. Let me teach you the meaning. Let me show you that love doesn't have to hurt, that there's another way to cope with this pain without adding to it." 

Mulder, suddenly skittish in the embrace, tried to bend away. Walter's grip remained firm. One arm wrapped around Mulder's chest, another stroked his hair. The soft, baritone voice tickled his ear. "Can you let me try to do that for you?" 

"I don't know, Walter." 

"Please, Mulder, let me try." 

As Walter's voice feather-touched his skin, his heartbeat surged. Still he faltered. "It's hard to change. Even if you know what you're doing is risky, that it could destroy you, you can't make yourself stop." 

"When I said I loved you, I didn't mean just when things were good, but for always. That includes this. You're not well, Mulder. I think you know that if you'll let yourself admit it." 

Walter braced against the tensing, barely restraining his lover's rebellious form within his arms. "I'm fine. I'm just tired. You're over reacting." 

"You're not fine. I know you don't want to hear it, but you know it's true. You're depressed, that's clear. But there's more to it. You've got this frightening pattern of self-destruction. You need help to change it." 

"Maybe I don't want to change it." 

Cautiously, speaking in a hush, "Is that true? Be honest. Do you really want to be miserable and out of control? Do you really want to struggle just to make it through the day so you can suffer pain alone in the dark?" 

"I'm afraid of change." 

"I know. But, Mulder, alone. It's too dangerous for you and too unthinkable for me." 

He paused, resting his chin on the top of the dark head he cradled there. "Yes, I think I'm beginning to finally get some inkling of what's going on. God, I wish I could attend the funeral of every bitch or asshole who's done such a thorough job at shredding your life." 

"Sorry, Walter, but you're a little late. Most are already dead, just like you'll be eventually." 

Reflex kidnapped his reason. Walter wrapped and wrestled his right bare leg up and over Mulder's. He spoke with a husky power, steel bands for a voice. "Nothing you say is going to drive me away, do you hear me. You can stomp and scream. Do the Mulder Pissfest all you want, but I...am...not...leaving." 

Tense muscles melted back, finally relaxing against a broad chest. "Prove it." 

Hand busied. Pants stripped away and floated up like streamers, buttons and socks swarmed confetti in the room. His naked lover beneath him, Walter pressed skin to skin, erect cocks belly to belly. Dark brown eyes stared into a hazel wash of green and gold flecks. "Do you feel numb now, Mulder?" He humped slowly while he spoke. "Tell me what you feel." 

Mulder could barely speak as he squeezed his eyes shut. "You. I feel you." 

"Good. I want you to feel me, to know every ounce and every inch of me. I'm going to reteach you, Mulder, recondition your response. I'm going to erase those horrible memories, that squirming face of Medusa in your dreams. It paralyzes you, keeps you in the dark pattern that will destroy you. I'm going to replace your pain with pleasure." 

Still pumping his hips, he spread Mulder's thighs and slid himself between them. His young lover never made love with his eyes open and now he knew why. Inside his head the distorted images raced on a tattered, horror-show screen. 

"Listen to me, Mulder." Words caressed, while both palms fanned a pattern across a lightly-haired chest. He leaned forward and nipped the bony edge of the collar bone. Both body and cock beneath him twitched. "I'll bite you, Mulder, mark you in my own way. I'll devour you, your body as well as spirit. See me in your mind." 

Mulder's whole body tightened with concentration, listening to the command and comfort of the voice. "No blood, just my teeth and tongue, Mulder. Lips over the bruise. Feel me now. See me clearly in your mind." 

Walter nibbled and licked along the side of his lover's neck and his unshaven chin. Then he traced a trail down each arm, across the chest, down the abdomen. First a slight bite, no broken skin, but flick of tongue followed by sucking lay fire across Mulder's inflamed flesh. 

His body arched with a quick intake of breath when Walter engulfed his cock, his teeth raking the tender thin skin. Skinner held each of Mulder's hands to his side, forcing them to remain still. Groans and ragged breathing merged to set a rhythmic pace. As balls tightened, Skinner raised his head. 

Mulder struggled not to cry. "Walter, please. God, it's been so long." 

"I know, but you're not ready yet." 

"Yes I am. Please?" 

"Not yet." 

"Cocksucking tease." 

A glorious smile graced the dark face that produced the growl. Taking advantage of his position and Mulder's mood shift, Walter reached over and grabbed a pillow. "Raise your ass." 

"Thought you'd never ask. God, please hurry before I lose it." 

Walter frowned, realizing that Mulder's erection had begun to flag. Quickly he retrieved the lube and condom from the night stand. He slicked both hands, and then positioned between raised knees, pushed a finger in Mulder's opening. With his other hand he pumped the failing member. 

"Close your eyes again, Mulder. Feel my finger stab into you, sliding in and making you ready." Gradually, with each sensual rub, his erection returned , the cock weeping faster. A second finger joined the first. With a little twist, Skinner tweaked the prostate. Crystal spikes shattered and littered Mulder's mind, glass fibers pricking each cell, each layer of tissue. Another added finger forced a loud grunt. His ass cheeks clinched and signaled for speed. Walter quickly rolled on his condom. 

He raised Mulder's hips higher as he kneeled between his thighs. Carefully he placed the tip of his cock at the entrance ready to advance. "Mulder, listen to me. Do you feel me here?" 

Hardly able to respond, his tongue coated with slick black ice, Mulder nodded. He raised both his arms above his head to hold his position against the headboard, every muscle in his body tensed, his breathing labored. The salty rush of Walter's scent imprinted his memory with his own shudder. His lover's weight anchored him against the dizzy spin of the distant world as he floated in the warm wash of Skinner's compelling voice. 

"Good. I want you to feel me, to feel the pleasure of fullness, not the tearing of pain." He edged up against the tightness between smooth ass cheeks. 

"This is the real thing, Mulder. Not some fat plastic fake." He pushed in a few inches and waited for his lover to adjust. He watched tension cord the neck, wrinkles web his forehead. "Feel the heat as it impales you." Knuckles whitened as they gripped wood. Raised thighs trembled. Walter pushed in all the way. 

"That's me, Mulder. Do you feel that?" He did a quick, powerful hip nudge. "Answer me." 

Heat lightning flashed blinding red across an internal gray sky. Words raw with passion barely made it to air with a low hiss. "Yes." 

"Tell me what you want." Another nudge, more powerful, persistent. 

"Fuck me, Walter. Please." 

"No. Tell me what to do. Trust me to know what I'm doing here. I love you because you're worth it. You deserve love. Now, tell me what you deserve." Still buried to the hilt, Walter leaned over letting his chest burn against the taut muscles beneath him, Mulder's cock twisted and twitched between them. 

"Damn you, Walter. Is this some kind of goddamn test?" 

"Tell me, Mulder." 

Eyes squeezed shut, he answered sadly, "I deserve to be fucked." 

"No." 

"Yes." 

"No. Mulder. If you don't respect your own opinion on this yet, respect mine. You deserve my love. Say it." 

"I can't" 

"Yes, you can." The forceful voice carried no mischief, no play. Serious as a heartbeat, he repeated, "Answer again. Tell me what you deserve." 

Pinned beneath his lover, his ass filled with the man's cock, tears flowed down the sides of Mulder's face. "Make love to me, Walter." 

It was enough. Hips rocked as Walter's cock pumped into a delicious fire. Electric pulsing triggered every muscle to quickly join in. Locked together, the two men seesawed and swayed to a private rhythm. 

Releasing Mulder's hips, Walter reached up to capture tight nipples. Straining position, continuing to pump, he suckled at his lover's right breast. Licking and fucking married as a hand worked at stroking balls in counter rhythm to his own. 

After only a few minutes, pressure gripped around Skinner's cock. Several short spasms locked down quickly and eased off. As Mulder slipped down to stillness, the warm fluid coated both their bellies. 

Reading the question in Walter's eyes, Mulder pushed up and started moving again. Remaining quiet as he focused on his lover's face, hips and groin matched in perfect dance. A tight fist wrapped and squeezed to send Walter tumbling into the oxygen-starved paleness of flashing lights behind squeezed lids. Breathing ragged, he fell forward again, sweat-happy and pleased. 

Long, slender arms reached up and around his waist to his back. Slow, firm rubs massaged until he managed to raise himself enough to roll over on his side. Mulder's hands came up and pulled his face closer, capturing his mouth, lips bruising, tongue begging to enter. Chest to chest, they wrapped limbs together, flesh pressed and tightly meshed. 

Mulder slowed his assaulting mouth and finally pulled back. Noting the dilated pupils and still slow breathing, he asked, "You okay?" 

Slowly inhaling the air of the deeply satisfied, Walter smiled. "Yeah, you?" 

"Better, thanks." 

Reaching over to pull Mulder into a tender caress, he lay the dark head to rest against his chest. 

"Walter?" 

"Yeah?" 

"We're kind of sticky." 

"And?" 

Snuggling in tighter, Mulder reached down to pull up a blanket from the end of the bed. "Never mind." 

He lay listening to his lover's pounding heartbeat as it slowed down, strong and even beneath him. A hand stroked and petted his head. Then just as sleep had almost netted him into darkness, he heard a voice. "Mulder?" 

"Yeah?" 

"Are you really okay?" 

"Walter, I'm the teacher's pet. How much better can I get?" 

"I'm serious, Mulder." 

Sighing deeply, he pulled himself into a tight ball as if he could curl up into the complete security of his lover's lap. "I know, Walter. Don't ask too much all in one day, okay. I'm trying. Now, let's go to sleep before you have to explain to Scully how you fucked me into a coma." 

Walter wrapped his hold more tightly, nesting his lover between his outstretched legs. Holding him there in the warmth and darkness, he settled back thinking of crucifixion. He dreamed of torture and sacrifice, Mulder surrendered and sheltered in his arms. 

* * *

The End


End file.
